


Respeto

by Rrismo



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Gen, Trans Male Character, trans man!Nacho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26342374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rrismo/pseuds/Rrismo
Summary: "That yours?", Varga asked and wiped their nose. "Saw the guys take it from you.""Y-yeah!", Domingo scrambled to his feet, the toy car clutched tight in his hand like a treasure. "Thanks!"Varga didn't return Domingo's smile. Instead, they scrunched up their face. "So you gonna stop letting them walk all over you any time soon?"Anon on CuriousCat asked for my trans!Nacho headcanons. I obliged in form of ficlet!
Relationships: Domingo "Krazy-8" Molina + Ignacio "Nacho" Varga
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	Respeto

Ever since Domingo could remember, his father had been close friends with the man who owned the upholstery shop on the other end of the road. They'd always been supporting each other, helping each other with business, having BBQs together. "Manuel Varga is a good man. The best man I know!", Domingo's dad always used to say. And he was right. Manuel was a kind, soft-spoken guy who worked the sewing machine from the early morning hours until late into the night, always with a smile on his face.

The only problem was Manuel's kid.

Every time the Molinas invited Manuel over, he brought that little troublemaker of a shrew along. No matter how much Manuel tried, his kid always looked like a mess, and wherever they went, bloody noses and the sound of other children crying would soon follow after. Some of the boys in the street went to the same school as the Varga kid, and all of them were scared shitless of the crazy little beast after they beat up two thirteen years olds just for calling them by their name.

Domingo's parents used to say it was because of what happened to Manuel's wife a couple years ago. Domingo wasn't so sure about that. His parents talked about Varga as if they would get over this at some point. Like it was a quirk they would grow out of, like a lisp, or believing in the tooth fairy. But to Domingo, nothing about this seemed like a flaw, or fake. Quite the opposite: Every time he saw Varga, they seemed a bit more real to him.

A sullen look in their enormous dark eyes, unkempt hair falling into their face, their chin held high in defiance, that's the picture that came to mind when Domingo thought of the Varga kid. Sometimes, when he watched Varga play basketball with the teenagers across the street, Domingo got a weird feeling in his stomach, like he'd missed a step on the way downstairs. While he was still playing with Hot Wheels, Varga was already hanging out with the older kids, the kind who would nick Domingo's toy cars for fun.

It wasn't that Domingo didn't want to get to know Varga better. But they were known for their temper and their reputation as a bully preceded them wherever they went. So Domingo kept his distance.

Every now and then, Domingo sat on the porch in the evening, hoping the teenagers would come by to play basketball, and that Varga would join them. In the warm summer months, he'd run danger of dozing off, his head leaning against the wooden railing covered with chipped white painting. He'd watch purple wisps of cloud pass by in the slowly darkening evening sky and listen to the singing of the crickets in the yellow, sun-bleached grass, until his eyes would fall shut.

Suddenly, something small and hard was thrown into his lap. Domingo bolted upright. It was his red Turbo Mustang. He looked up and saw Varga standing right in front of the porch, arms folded. A seam of their way too big jacket was ripped, and their skinny knees were scraped open, but they didn't seem to mind.

"That yours?", Varga asked and wiped their nose. "Saw the guys take it from you."

"Y-yeah!", Domingo scrambled to his feet, the toy car clutched tight in his hand like a treasure. "Thanks!"

Varga didn't return Domingo's smile. Instead, they scrunched up their face. "So you gonna stop letting them walk all over you any time soon?"

"What?" Varga was a couple of inches shorter than him, but Domingo suddenly felt very small under their judging gaze.

Varga rolled their eyes. "Been watching this going on for weeks now. Makes you look like a pushover."

For a second, Domingo felt the sting of Varga's words, and he was already about to retaliate with something stupid, something really childish. But then he saw the way Varga kept eyeing the toy car in his hand. Summoning all his courage, Domingo reached into his pocket and got out a couple of micro machines. "...You wanna play?"

Varga wiped their nose again and considered Domingo for what was the most tense five seconds in his entire ten years old life. "Sure." They plopped down on the porch next to Domingo, started sorting out all the red toy cars in front of them and murmured: "If they mess with you again, you tell me."

There was a moment of silence in which Domingo realized that he couldn't really pretend like he didn't know Varga's name, but he also didn't want to anger the other kid. "Sorry, uhm... what did you wanna be called again?", he asked eventually.

"I'm Ignacio", Varga said, his brows knitting together and his eyes darting over at Domingo to watch his reaction.

"Like Nacho Ambríz??", Domingo yelled before he could stop himself, since it wasn't often that he got to talk about soccer with other kids. He bit down on his tongue, but Varga didn't seem to be mad. Instead, something lit up in his face, just the tiniest bit.

"Yeah", Nacho said.


End file.
